tranquility with you
by popexpaulsen
Summary: We all need a little help. An early season 7, slightly AU oneshot


**A/N: A few things just before I start.**

**I'm ignoring the Command storyline because I can, and after all this time it still seems inorganic to Olivia's character.**

**To be honest, I only watched the Olitz scenes in season 7 so if details are wrong, I apologise (not that I've really mentioned any majot plot lines).**

**This is unbetaed so all mistakes are my own.**

**Do we still needed to do disclaimers? I don't own these characters!**

**.**

Olivia stumbled through the door of her apartment, exhausted after the week she had just put in. Being Chief of Staff to the president came with a degree of constant stress she thought she had been prepared for, but the extra responsibility was taking a toll on her, and this week she had found it difficult to maintain the strong façade that everyone had come to associate with her.

Stepping out of her heels, and shrugging out of her blazer, she made her way into the bedroom and collapsed onto her mattress, too tired to contemplate making dinner, or even ordering in. Taking her phone out of her pants pocket, she opened up her contacts, her thumb hovering over the name of the one person she really wanted to talk to right now (and always), but who she had been so determined to keep filed away in a box in her mind marked 'distraction' in huge red letters. Sighing, she relented, knowing if she didn't, he would consume her thoughts well into the night anyway. She settled against the head of her bed as she dialled Fitz's number and held the phone up to her ear, holding her breath as she waited from him to answer.

On the third ring, he picked up, and she expelled the breath she had been holding in relief. Her "Hi," came out at almost a whisper and his felt like a warm blanket being draped over her weary limbs. His voice was milk chocolate, and upon hearing it, she instantly relaxed the muscles in her shoulders which had been unconsciously tensed since she had awoken that morning. When Olivia didn't expand on her greeting, Fitz sighed, preparing to inevitably do the emotional heavy lifting in this conversation, like he had done so many times before.

"Liv," he began quietly, not yet exactly sure how he wanted to continue. "Liv… why are you calling me?"

Liv paused before answering, struggling to come up with the words to express why the visceral need she always felt for him had risen so close to the surface today. It was Liv that had made him promise to leave her be whilst she settled into her new role, yet here she was, unable to hold up her end of the deal. She sat up straighter, hating to be so vulnerable but needing him so terribly that she was almost past the point of caring.

"I know that I said that I couldn't have any distractions during Mellie's first one hundred days, and I really appreciate you respecting that boundary, but I just... I really, really miss you Fitz and I uhh… can I..," she trailed off, rubbing her hand over her eyes, still, after all these years finding it so hard to ask for anything off this man who has proven he would go to the ends of the earth to give her everything. He stayed silent, knowing if he interrupted, she'd think herself out of asking him for what she wanted.

"I just thought maybe I could come up there this weekend and I was wondering if you'd be okay with that, or if you even want to see me right now and if not then that's okay but I..," she was rambling at this stage, and Fitz took pity on her, finally cutting in.

"Liv," he whispered, his low tone effortlessly catching her attention, "I'll send the helicopter first thing in the morning okay?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, but failed to stop a tear from sliding down her cheek. Nodding slightly, even though he couldn't see, she choked out a, "Thank you," and hung up the phone.

.

Fitz was waiting outside the front door as she made her way up the path the next morning. Once she was close enough to properly take her in, Fitz held out his arms, knowing what she needed the most in this moment. She put up no resistance, allowing him to envelope her in his warmth, sighing as she leaned her weight on him.

"Hi," she mumbled into the material of his deep green, knitted sweater, after taking a moment to breathe in his scent. He placed a quick kiss on the top of her head and returned the sentiment, pulling back slightly so that he could look at her. Had he not known her so well, he might not have noticed a difference, but Fitz had spent the better part of the last decade studying every inch of the woman in front of him, and he could spot the sheer exhaustion in her features a mile away.

"How long can you stay?" he asked, squeezing her shoulders and turning to move inside.

"I'm needed in the White House first thing in the morning," she replied, moving to follow him. "I've made arrangements with the pilot to take me back around eight," she added.

As they stepped inside the building, Olivia stilled in the doorway, taking in the home he had built for them for the first time since the night he told her about its existence. The foyer was warm and inviting, the stone walls, and wooden features somehow amalgamating into the perfect mixture of the two of them. The amount of thought Fitz had put into every aspect of the space was obvious, and it took Liv's breath away. Fitz seemed to realise what she was thinking, and he stilled his movements, allowing her to have a moment to take in the enormity of it all. Once she seemed to have pulled herself together, he moved closer, taking her hand and slightly tugging on it.

"Would you like a tour of the place?" he asked gently, and she nodded, not yet able to come up with the words to express how much she would.

He showed her the kitchen and living space, bringing her outside to show her the chairs he had made for them, before returning inside to continue the tour. In each room, he took the time to point out his favourite design features, and pieces that he thinks she would like, explaining his reasoning behind his choices each time. Olivia had yet to speak, still in awe of the house, but she let him know she was listening with a squeeze of her hand, or a tight-lipped smile that was spilling with emotion.

He finished up the last spare room and was starting to make his way back to the living area when she finally spoke up.

"Fitz," she stopped him in his tracks with her voice. "Will you… can you show me our room?" she asked, smiling shyly. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out, now his turn to be overwhelmed with the magnitude of the moment. Putting his hand out to rest on her lower back, he led her down the corridor to the one room she hadn't yet entered. He opened the door and let her walk in first, wanting to take in her expression as she saw the space for the first time. The room was bright and airy, with floor to ceiling windows covering the entirety of one of the walls, framing the miles of land surrounding the house. The hardwood floor and the large, four poster bed was exactly how she imagined the room to look. There was a cosy settee in one corner and a large vanity set up against the wall opposite the mirrors. The room was beautiful, but what drew Liv's attention most was the picture frames sitting on each of the beside lockers. The one on the right held a picture of the two of them on his first campaign trail, walking together whilst she reads to him from the clipboard in her hand. She's clearly in business mode but he's smiling down at her like he didn't care if the whole word could tell he was in love with this woman who wasn't his. The photograph in the frame on the other locker was taken during the time they spent together in the White House, before everything turned sour. It was during the first dinner they hosted since becoming a public couple. She was wearing a black, floor length, form fitting dress with thin straps that crossed at the back. Her hair was loose and wavy, and her smile reached her eyes, and was reserved only for him. He was looking directly at the camera, beaming like the proudest man in the world, finally getting to show her off. Liv moved towards the first frame, her thumb reaching to trace their younger features. She turned to look at him and saw everything she was feeling reflected in his eyes.

"I can't believe this is real," she finally breathed. "We're standing in our room in the house you built for us and we have pictures in frames because we don't have anything to hide and…", he could tell her emotions were about to get the better of her so he gathered her in her arms, ready to catch her if she fell apart.

"This is real," he confirmed, kissing her forehead and her cheek, revelling in the feeling of her in his arms once again.

After a moment, she pulled back, biting her lip as she looked up at him. From this angle their faces were inches apart and it was all she could do not to press her lips to his before she was able to make her request.

"Fitz," she whispered, "make love to me in our bed."

Smiling as he leaned in to kiss her lips, he grabbed her thighs so she could wrap her legs around his waist and carried her over to the bed. Between kisses, he gently laid her down and climbed over her so that most of the weight was on her. He moved from her mouth to her jawline, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck, and desperately trying to move her clothing to reach her chest. Using the last ounce of restraint she had, she stalled him with her hands on his face, moving him off her to allow herself to get rid of some of the layers between them. Fitz took her in as she pulled her top over her head, still, after all these years, in awe of her beauty. She could feel his eyes on her and she smirked as she threw her top on the floor.

"Well don't just sit there, Mister, get to work," she teased gesturing to the clothing still adorning his body. He chuckled and did as he was told, shaking out of his reverie, now determined to get back to what they both desperately wanted to be doing. He moved off the bed to rid himself of his clothes, then made his way back to where Liv was waiting for him, naked, and smiling and _so_ beautiful. As he settled into kissing her again, and she moulded her body against his, he couldn't hold the words in any longer.

"Mmm… love you so much, Livvie," he whispered as he placed a kiss behind her ear, his hands trailing down to caress her sides and causing her to squirm in his grasp. She reached for his face and moved his mouth back to hers, needing to show him she felt the same way, her words so often failing her. When they came together it was slow and intense, both wanting to savour the connection between them they hadn't been able to share since he moved to Vermont, and she became the second most powerful woman in the country.

.

Afterwards, she rolled out of his arms and padded to the en suite to clean up. When she returned, he was sitting up in bed, hands behind his head, smiling contentedly at her. She tilted her head at him, silently asking what was on his mind.

"You hungry?" he asked. "I could make us some lunch."

"You could _make_ us lunch? Fitz, you can't cook," she chortled, clearly amused by his suggestion.

"Hey, just because you haven't seen me do it doesn't mean I can't, Miss every-night-is-popcorn-for-dinner-night," he threw back. She tossed a knowing look over her shoulder as she stepped into the walk-in wardrobe in search of something to wear. When she returned, clad in an oversized t-shirt and pair of shorts that he had clearly bought for her, still wearing the same disbelieving expression, he relented, admitting he had been working on his cooking skills since he moved up here, but he was proud of what he had managed so far.

.

They made their way downstairs and Fitz impressed her with a chicken and sundried tomato salad he was able to throw together from the ingredients in his fridge, including a homemade dressing. As they ate in silence, Fitz contemplated how to broach the subject they had been avoiding all morning. Eventually, he put down his fork, deciding if he thought too much about it, he'd put it off until she had to leave.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked quietly.

"Talk about what?" Liv replied around a forkful of chicken and spinach, feigning nonchalance. She caught his eyes, his look letting her know he wasn't letting her away with this. Liv put down her cutlery, and sat back in her chair, not wanting to have this conversation, but knowing she needed to.

"It's… harder… than I thought it would be. Being Chief of Staff," she began quietly. "I really thought I was ready for it. I thought it was what I needed, you know? And I had been helping you run the White House for _years_ and, honestly, I thought this would be the same, just with a different title, but it's not. And I can do it. I can to it _well_, but I thought I could do it with no breaks, and no one to lean on and I can't. It's too much. So, I know that it was me who made the rule about not seeing each other but last night, if I wasn't able to talk to you, I don't…". She's not exactly sure how she was going to finish her sentence, but somehow, he understands anyway. He pushes up from his chair and moves around the table so he can pull her up to stand in front of him. He pushes her chin up with two of his fingers, so that she met his gaze.

"We all need a little help, Livvie. Nobody can do it on their own," he told her, holding her gaze until he was sure she took his words in. She nodded, and he pulled her in for a hug, overwhelmed with gratitude that he's the one she feels comfortable enough with to share her inner turmoil. Pulling back, he smiled down at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You wanna watch a movie with me?" he asked, and she giggled, still not quite able to believe how normal they could be now. She moved towards the couch in answer, and he followed, setting up the TV, and pulling down the throws from the back of the couch so they could be get comfortable.

.

They spent the afternoon in each other's arms, watching classics and sharing a glass of wine and some snacks. It was exactly what Olivia needed, and when the time came, she was reluctant to leave the perfect bubble he had created for them. He walked with her to the door and stalled her with a hand to the shoulder before she had to leave.

"I wish you could come with me," she whispered, not daring to look up at him as the admission left her tongue.

"I can't go with you, Livvie. I'm done with that world, but you still have so much to do. Go be Olivia Pope. America _needs_ you. Just remember I'm only a phone call away whenever _you_ need _me_. Day or night." She let his words sink in before turning away from him and towards everything that was waiting for her back in DC.

As she walked away from him, he could see her pull herself back together in the evolution of her strut, and he was content, glad she allowed herself to lean on him today, and proud that she returning run the world like only Olivia Pope could.

.

**A/N: So that was my first ever fanfic, and I'm really more of a scientist at heart so I hope I was able to capture their voices at least in part. Please let me know what you think! Also, I have a new twitter page popexpaulsen so please feel free to chat to me over there!**


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